


A quiet but inevitable "I will be the death of you"

by Ive_been_ghosting_along



Category: Secret History - Donna Tartt
Genre: I wanna write more, Idk what this is either so please dont ask, M/M, Maybe - Freeform, but so vague, i needed more explanation, im sorry, its like 2 am lmao, only time will tell, their dynamic is interesting, their relationship seemed so important, this is bad yes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-17 16:48:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28977666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ive_been_ghosting_along/pseuds/Ive_been_ghosting_along
Summary: It's somehow funny, in Henry's attempt to escape Bunny he has attached himself to him indefinitely. If there is such a thing as a soul, Henry's and Bunny's would be intertwined as murderer and victim, as best friends, as a quiet but inevitable "I will be the death of you".
Relationships: Edmund "Bunny" Corcoran/Henry Winter
Comments: 5
Kudos: 16





	1. Chapter 1

To tell this story in its entirety I feel the need to tell another story . This story doesn't include me, or even Francis or Charles and Camilla. Freshman year, when it was just them - Henry and Bunny that is - the beautiful scholar and the only person that could make him laugh.

Henry still had a faint pain in his back walking up the stairs to the dorm, he had requested a room on the first floor but apparently he requested too late. It was a true shame with all his remaining aches, he could even feel a migraine coming on and desperately tried to will it away. It never works though, and they never do. He's made it halfway up the stairs when the pins and prickles start at the back of his head, but he keeps going and going, trying to see through the stars. Somehow he makes it to the room and drops his one suitcase on the floor, the sound making his migraine even worse. He didn't pack any pain pills, he assumed he'd be fine enough to buy them once he got settled in. Fuck, why didn't he at least get a bottle of aspirin?

"Ugh shit", he covers his head with his hands and rocks a little on the floor.  _ Go away go away go away _ . Henry stays like that for a long while, he loses a sense of reality and it's just the pain, the pins and needles. 

He hears a hugely unwelcome, abrasive, loud knock at the door, "I'd go but I think this is my room too old man."  _ Oh _ . He didn't realize he was saying that aloud.

"Come in", he answers begrudgingly, heaving himself off the ground and onto the desk chair.

The door opens way too fast and loudly and Henry is already mentally stabbing this person in the heart. "Whoo bud you don't look too good."

Henry continues rubbing his temples, "Don't call me that." He hears an obnoxious laugh, hardy and real and piercing. Henry hears a crash of some suitcases and then there's a person sitting next to him on his desk.

"Name's Edmund Corcoran, but you can call me Bunny, everyone does," Henry stays with his eyes closed and tries to ignore this person's harrowing existence. He's kicking his legs back and forth like a child and each kick makes a harsh  _ thunk _ against the wood.

" _ You _ got a name?" 

Henry sighs, "If I tell you my name will you leave me alone?"  _ Bunny _ gives a hardy chuckle in response. 

"Ya got yourself a deal." Henry glances up a bit and his face perfectly matches his voice - blonde, fluffy hair, pale skin, sharp features, he looks annoying.

"Henry." Bunny continues his soft kicking for a bit, " _ Henry _ …?"

"You said you'd leave me alone if I told you my name."

"Well I gave ya my full name plus a nickname, 's only fair."

Henry sighs and grunts at the same time, in both pain and annoyance, "Winter. Henry Winter."

Bunny claps him on the shoulder a bit too hard, "There ya go Henry, not so hard."

Henry wishes he would go away, he wants him to leave him alone to suffer through this pain in peace, but he won't.

Bunny pushes his face into Henry's like he's studying something, "You ok old man?" Henry weakly pushes him away, "Don't call me that."

"You in pain?"

"I thought that'd be obvious," Henry hates pushy people, so far it's all Bunny has done.

"Wait wait wait, I got ya," Bunny hops off the desk, rummages vaguely through his bags, and returns to Henry's side, "Here ya go". Henry glances to what Bunny is holding - Sumatriptan pills, two of them. He looks up at him and he must have looked puzzled because Bunny answers his question anyway, "Got 'em off my mom she doesn't use 'em anyway." Henry barely hears this explanation and just downs them without water because he's already so used to taking pills.

"...Thanks," he announced with a strangled cadence.

"Eh it's no problem really, I got a ton of this shit…" It gets quiet for a while and Henry is thankful for it.

"Uh… name's Bunny by the way."

Henry rubs his temples again, "yeah you mentioned that already". Bunny looks at him like he'd said something truly fantastical, "Did I? Huh," and Henry didn't really know what it was, maybe it was the way he looked so completely lost or just this stupid situation or the pills but he cracks a smile at that. He pinches the bridge of his nose as he starts to actually  _ laugh _ , and Bunny, being about utterly clueless, laughs with him. 

Bunny makes it an interesting habit to say Henry's name as often as possible.  _ "Hey Henry, wanna go to lunch Henry?" _ He thinks it strange, but then again Bunny was strange. At first he assumed it was a subtle slight that he couldn't really figure out the root of, turns out it really wasn't though. If he'd had to really guess, he'd say it was a strange form of affection, something he didn't quite understand. Henry had been depending on him for Sumatriptan, not out of necessity, but by the sheer convenience of it. Bunny would somehow always have some on hand and even save a few for Henry every week or so. Henry thinks it's unorthodox, but kind, strange but kind.

As time trickles on, Henry realizes that it isn't easy being Bunny's friend, it was quite tiring actually. How many checks had he written in just the past week? For his dinners, his clothes, his new cologne, yet why? It isn't as if he doesn't have the funds, he just doesn't quite understand why he heeded to Bunny's wishes so easily. It frustrates him in a way, but is also so strangely liberated to spend the ridiculous amount of money he has on someone else. Bunny's face lights up everytime he gives him a new gift - a new jacket, a new watch, a cologne Henry tried on at the store and realized it would do so nicely on Bunny. When he sees his face like that, all smiles and thank yous, he feels good about himself - like he isn't the rich snobby kid you wished you didn't go to school with. Of course doing this makes him exactly that, but that isn't the point. It's how he feels, how it  _ makes _ him feel, is all that matters.

The first time they kissed was, unsurprisingly, when they were both very drunk. It was a celebration - Bunny had managed to get a passing grade on a horrible final essay he wrote half an hour before the due date. Bunny had brought bottle after bottle of champagne and whiskey, and Henry wanted to celebrate with him - as friends often do in this sort of situation. This was the era in which they were never seen apart, that if you saw one the other surely was never far behind. So this wasn't anything out of the ordinary, it was just him and his friend Bunny. It was a nice night - warm with a cool breeze coming through the window. Henry's face felt hot and fuzzy the whole time and he vaguely remembers Bunny's hands grazing over it, saying, in some sort of reverence, how handsome he was. He remembers returning the sentiment, but with short and quick words, like he was running out of time. Henry had hardly indulged in Bunny's ego before that day, perhaps he'd compliment him on a suit or jacket, but never his actual appearance. "I think…. you're very, so very pretty", he remembers saying in his drunken haze. He thinks that must have been what led to them kissing; the details of it elude him, just the fuzzy warmth and vague pressure. It was no kiss to be remembered - a shadow of a thing twice forgotten, but he never forgot, and neither did Bunny. The second time they kissed, quite ironically, was during a fight about the kiss. Henry didn't talk about things, but neither did Bunny, and that silence from another person was so foreign and agitating. He wanted him to want him to talk about it, he wanted him to admit that it was real and something good, and that's what he told him after Bunny had come back from a party in late March. Bunny didn't exactly take this well at first, of course he didn't, but Henry somehow always finds a way to de-escalate situations. That de-escalation led to that familiar feeling of warmth, warmth that burrows deep and attaches itself to you. Bunny felt warm next to Henry, when had he ever felt that warm? And so he kissed him again, to see if it  _ was _ Henry and not his stupefied imagination. And it was - it was Henry. He thought he ought to have been angry, but the warmth burrows deep and clouds your precedent thoughts, pulls you down into that great geizer to be born again in warmth. But Bunny was not reborn, he actually hadn't changed a bit since, because he was afraid. Fear is a remarkable thing, because fear too burrows deep and drags you down into dissent, where there is nothing but death, death, death.

Henry and Bunny, if you asked anyone at all, never even existed. They were friends, shadows of shadows who were seen at lunch and perhaps in the library but hardly ever sparing an intimate gesture. If they ever shared a love, it was a ghost of a ghost of a ghost of a love. Bunny would not have it, and that made Henry tired. It is tiring, trying to love someone who refuses to be loved. And to add on, to feel hated by that person, to say they are disgusted by your love, and then crawl into your arms at convenience? It really is a unique sort of torture. Henry sometimes wondered if that was what it was supposed to be - torture. If perhaps Bunny hated him so much that this whole thing was simply to spit in his face. His money belonged to him, his thoughts, if he dare say it, his love too, and he hated it. He hated it, he hated it. Fear. Dissent. That dissent gripped Henry Winter tight and pulled, pulled until there was no pulling left because resistance itself had nulled. That dissent cored itself into every one of Bunny's actions, everything he did somehow made Henry more and more angry. He wanted it to stop, he wanted his heart to stop, his mind. It truly did feel like the worst mind game. Once Bunny had, as a "joke", took Henry's glasses and snapped them in half. Henry was absolutely furious and when he confronted Bunny he simply laughed and said, "You have more than enough money to replace those old man". Even in front of Julian, Bunny would cackle at his own horrible jokes, perhaps to prove just how much he hated Henry. And Henry grew tired, as one does with something as redundant and hateful as Bunny Corcoran's mind game. When Henry moved out though - oh what an unorthodox reaction Bunny had! Henry had moved to an apartment downtown to rid himself, at least for the bulk of the day, from Bunny's nuances. He looked at the apartment once and bought it, it was nice enough and he really couldn't care less how much it cost. When he held the key he felt a little lighter, a place away from that great reminder that his generosity was unwelcome, hated, scorned, but taken all the same. The thing that really made him leave was the realization that he would keep giving it- to feel needed, to  _ feel _ wanted. On the day he moved Bunny had actually been very quiet, as if he was digesting this new information and didn't yet know how to react despite being aware of Henry moving out for the past three weeks. Henry paid no mind to his catatonic state for it was much preferred to his disturbed teasing. When he was finished, he hadn't spared him a goodbye. Henry simply left. In Bunny's indignant, narcissistic mind, Henry had abandoned him. He didn't think it could have been something he caused, something he could have prevented. All that filled the gaps in his mind was Henry's sudden absence - which, of course, made him angry and fearful all over again.

Henry is reading  _ Divine Comedy _ when the phone on his bedside table rings. He ponders letting it ring and divulging in his late night reading, but for some reason he felt compelled to answer this one.

"Hello?"

"Henry?"

"Bun? Is that you?" That nickname never really did go away, did it. He hears a shaky breath on the other end of the receiver.

"Yeah, 's me," his voice is uncharacteristically soft and unclear.

"Are you okay?" Henry had to ask, no matter how much he didn't want to hear the answer, how much he wanted to click the receiver closed and go back to Alighieri and his imaginations. He hears a sniffle on the other end and knows he's been crying, something Bunny does not often do.

"N-no, not really," he chuckles after saying that, as if it was something so absurd.

"What's wrong?" 

Another sniffle, a deep deep breath, and then finally, as quiet as he possibly could, he whispers back, "I miss you." If he was being completely honest, Henry didn't know what to make of this, he missed him? How many chances had he given him to miss him before this? How many times did he want to feel missed when he was sleeping right next to him? He felt a surge of anger bubbling, but then Bunny made that pathetic whimper again and a devastating wave of sadness crashed and decimated any other feeling that threatened to surface. 

"Ok," he said, like it was a promise.

"C-can you-"

"I'll come," despite his previous beliefs, he didn't want to hear him say that.

"Ok," and the line went dead. Henry, in the dead of night, walked out his apartment door down to the parking lot and drove the 15 minutes back to the Hampden dorms. When he arrived the door was left open and, as expected, Bunny was there. He was sitting on the side of his bed next to the phone like he hadn't moved the whole time, and maybe he hadn't. 

"Bun?" Henry asked so softly it could've been imagined, just the way Bunny preferred. Every affection they shared was imagined, so quiet and hazy it could barely be constituted as real. Bunny looked up at him, and even in the dark he could see his reddened eyes and tear-stained cheeks. Henry sat down on the floor in front of him, "What happened?"

Bunny shook his head, "Nothing." Henry looked at him, puzzled, "Why are you crying?" Bunny sucked in a breath as if he hadn't been breathing at all, like the word "crying" scorched his skin. 

"Why don't you just come back?" Bunny smiles sadly with his crinkled, tear-filled eyes, "Come on, you and me again, like always." This was, as I'd mentioned before, wildly unorthodox for Bunny.  _ Who would've thought? _

"I can't do that," Henry said softly, or at least an attempt at softly. He had a pathological thought that this was what righteousness must feel like - to have the one who wronged you admit so vulnerably that they were wrong. Henry wanted to capture this moment, as proof of Bunny's fallibility. Something concrete to wave in his face and say "Look! You love me! You need me too!" Bunny so often missed the twitches in Henry's face, the little smiles that broke through when Bunny admitted how fallible he was.  _ I want you to say that you need me. _ Of course he'd never say that aloud, but he felt it oh so strongly.

Bunny leaned his head down on Henry's shoulder and cried, and he cried and he cried and he wouldn't stop crying. Those feelings of righteousness and gratuitous pride diminished, they were not extinguished but dimmed, dimmed enough. They dimmed enough for him to wrap his arms around Bunny's head and run his fingers through his tousled hair. He even pressed his lips against his cheek - his skin was so hot his lips felt frostbitten in comparison. They stayed like that for a while - until Bunny stopped crying that is. Somehow this whole ordeal had exhausted the both of them and they fell asleep quickly on the narrow little twin bed Bunny had. Bunny felt accomplished. Bunny felt warm. Bunny felt fear. And the next morning, he would feel dissent as per usual, because Bunny doesn't change.


	2. Chapter 2

Things would continue in almost the exact same fashion - a pitiable "I miss you", an equally pitiable visit at midnight, a damn near screaming match the next morning. Some, however, turn out far uglier than others.

"I told you I don't need your fuckin' money"

"I didn't say you did"

"Then why would you offer me that stupid bullshit?" Henry had only asked if Bunny wanted to come live him, and he actually thought Bunny would be glad to put his pride away for once.

"It's not about money, Bun"

"Then what the fuck is it about?" Bunny glared at him. Henry glared back. He was daring him to say it, to make it real, so Bunny would have the chance to laugh in his face and deny it. He wouldn't, neither of them would, which proved to be quite fatal for the both of them. Henry just sighed and turned back to buttoning up the last few buttons on his white dress shirt. Bunny was already fully dressed, he was always the first one to be, always. 

"Bun, for someone as irresponsible as you, you sure seem to have a lot of qualms when it comes to a handout," now Henry knew, God he knew, that he shouldn't have said that. However, the look on Bunny's face made it so worth it - the shock, the hurt, the consequences of his own vitriolic words spun right back at him. 

"Are you fucking kidding me? I don't need your bullshit  _ handouts _ , fuck you Henry," he said this all while still sitting on his bed, far away from Henry standing on the other side of the room.

Henry's hands dropped to his side, at this point he was past exhausted, he was angry, indignant, so tired to where he wanted to just press pause on Bunny and never start him up again, like a bad movie. 

"Maybe think about that the next time you cry for me at night," this was quite clearly the finishing blow to an already violent fight. Bunny's eyes went wide and Henry thought for a second, interestingly enough, that he actually did look like a bunny in that moment. His eyes looked so big and bleary like a cartoon animal's, and of course the blue only proved to highlight those characteristics. Henry always assumed Bunny was going to hit him had he not turned around and left after he let those words hang in the air for no more than a few seconds. He slammed the door on the way out like a child, knowing Bunny would get upset at such a trivial thing. There was no call that night, nor were there calls for the next seven nights, as expected. Henry hadn't exactly regretted speaking his mind, but he silently wished he chose tamer words. The next few weeks, they would glance at each other once in Greek and immediately remember why they weren't speaking, and Julian noticed, Julian always notices.

"Henry?" Julian inquired after Bunny had barreled out of the room without as much as a glance back.

Henry rubbed his temples, "Yes?"

"You and Edmund," he didn't even attempt to phrase it as a question, there was not a trace of hesitation, and Julian always had that way of encapsulating everything that needed to be said within a few words.

Henry sighed, "What about that".

Julian smiled his polite, serene smile, "Το καλό και το κακό." Henry huffed at that, because he was having trouble finding the validity of the first part in his and Bunny's situation.

Perhaps for cautionary purposes, Julian added on,"As beautiful as some tragedies can be, they are all tragedies in the end." Henry squinted his eyes at Julian, questioning him for the first time, because despite his lack of awareness in Bunny's demise Julian always knew how things would end, an insight Henry would never acquire. He thinks he might have asked him for clarification, or maybe mumbled out something at least, but he didn't, he left. 

In his lonely, empty apartment Henry would find himself missing Bunny's company. It wasn't an entirely unfamiliar feeling, when Bunny would go off to a party for the night or sleep early when Henry decided to stay up and study, he'd felt it then as well. It's in these times where he'd remember why he even bothered with this mess of a person. He'd remember why he would stay up in the dorm, waiting to walk Bunny to bed and give him a change of clothes in the morning. Once Bunny had drunkenly pulled on Henry's shirt and asked him to stay by him for the night, so Henry pulled up a chair and sat next to his bed. As he sat there, he curiously began to closely consider Bunny's features, his sharp cheekbones and nose, the flutter of eyelashes, the messy hair that obscured the left half of his face. He was, in the most traditional sense, beautiful, but not that beautiful, Henry thought. Henry ran his hand over Bunny's pale cheek and considered Julian's ideas of beauty in the gruesome. He imagined a stream of blood running from the base of his hairline down over his pale cheek, the contrast of red and white, like blood on snow. Henry thought that then, Bunny would be a true beauty. He would hang him up in a museum, preserve the picture like it was his  _ magnum opus _ . It would be his  _ magnum opus _ , he thought. He imagined a bruise on Bunny's lip, split and red with inflammation, the blood smeared over his face. Henry began to run his nails over his skin, subconsciously, lost in his picturesque reverie. He only noticed when Bunny irritatedly shoved his hand away, "You have sharp nails old man," he slurred, drunk and half asleep. Henry brought his hand away and rested it on Bunny's shoulder, wondering where these thoughts would bring him, and whether or not he should discuss them with Julian. All he did, in the end, was cut his nails the next morning.

Henry thinks of those nights often when he's alone in his apartment, staring up at the ceiling in a sort of wonder. Did he genuinely care about Bunny? That question always lingered in the back of his mind. Yet he never answers, because he never fucking has one.

Henry wondered how long Bunny would keep up this disappearing act, but it turns out he didn't need to wonder for long. 

Henry was having another coffee-fueled, depressing day as he was walking up the lyceum stairs as usual, holding his hand over his forehead to cool his skin down; he vaguely wonders if he has a fever. As he mentally prepares for another awkward class with Julian and Bunny filled with heated glares, he hears the repeating click of a lighter being opened and closed. His onset migraine grows and overtakes his foggy mind and he thinks that he desperately needs Sumatriptan, but Henry never got a prescription because Bunny always gave them to him, even after he moved out. 

"I'm sorry, but could you shut up," Henry asks in a strangely polite way while rubbing his forehead. The stranger closes the lid on the lighter for good, "Sorry." He registers that he has a nice accent, Bostonian. The stranger jumps down from the windowsill he was sitting on and offers his hand to Henry, "Francis Abernathy". Henry looks at the outstretched hand and thinks it's best to take it, "Henry Winter".

"Henry, huh," Francis smirks through his cigarette, offering Henry one and then graciously lighting it for him. 

The thing about Bunny was, despite his size, he was very light on his feet (he'd mentioned something about that being useful in football). With his airy ways of moving, nobody hardly ever noticed him walking in a room if he wasn't laughing or talking as he did. That day, and the past few days, Bunny hadn't been very talkative, especially in Henry's presence, so neither Henry nor Francis noticed him at the bottom of the landing. He stared up at them, all quiet anger and some perplexing sort of hurt, he felt a horrible heat conquer his innards and move towards his extremities.  _ Francis Abernathy _ . He decided, quickly, that he very much did not like Francis Abernathy, for a reason Francis would come to misinterpret quite substantially. Of course, Bunny isn't like Henry, he doesn't kill things he hates and gets it over and done with, he creates a fire under them that they rarely notice until he's throwing all his gasoline on it.

"Hey Winter!" Bunny all but yells as he hops up the stairs, resting his elbow on Henry's shoulder. Henry looked at him, wide-eyed and so incredibly confused. Bunny ignores this, "Who're you Carrot?" Henry silently takes a long drag from his cigarette. Francis squints his eye at him, almost like a twitch, but manages to play off his annoyance, "Francis" and he holds his hand out for Bunny to shake.

"Bunny," he announces as he grabs Francis's hand and shakes it until he feels it's going to break. Francis retracts his hand immediately after Bunny lets go, wiping it on his coat and looking uncomfortable.

"Well, Julian's waiting ain't he?"

When they did enter the classroom, two more spectacles also awaited - a pair of twins. Charles and Camilla, like a pair of Greek statues, sat on the marble bench talking quietly between themselves. Bunny was more tolerable towards them, especially Camilla, making a point to kiss her hand as he introduced himself, and more tolerable towards Francis as well once it seemed he was fixated by Charles. It was the breakthrough for Henry and Bunny, a short lived, messy, fruitless-in-the-long-run kind of breakthrough, but a breakthrough. Bunny sat next to Henry that class, very closely the whole time, leaning over his shoulder to read a passage from his book, throwing an arm over his shoulder, anything to express that  _ we were here first _ . Henry thought it was dreadfully childish and unnecessary, but also another burst of pride that comes from proving to someone that they aren't above the people around them. 

That night, Henry did not get a call (which shocked him a great deal momentarily). No, he did not get a call, he got a visit. Bunny, with a crisp black blazer he bought him once when they were coming back from the Brasserie, stood outside his door patiently.

"Henry old man!" He exclaimed as Henry toed open the door. 

"What do you want Bunny?" Any person with ears could hear the exhaustion in his voice.

"Now that's no way to greet a friend, come on," Bunny gave him that playful smile he used when he wanted something. Henry didn't say anything in return, he just waited, waited for Bunny to change his mind and leave as he usually ended up doing.

"Not gonna invite a friend in?" Henry blinked at him, once, twice, perhaps waiting for this mirage to disappear, but it didn't. He opened the door wider and let Bunny close it on his way in.

"Wow, haven't been here for awhile huh,'' Bunny rambled off as he took off the blazer and gingerly set it on the coat rack.

"No, you haven't," Henry replied blandly. 

"So what do you think of those twins, 'specially the girl, what was her name? Camille?"

"Camilla."

"Yeah her, she a pretty thang ain't she?" He asked as he toed off the leather shoes Henry had also bought him, God what had Henry not bought him? 

"She is," Henry didn't feel like giving Bunny any fuel for a fight tonight.

"Yeah," Bunny stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, hands in his pockets and a few buttons loose on his shirt. Henry just stared at him, daring him to make the next move because he was sure he no longer would. He always had the idea that Bunny didn't know the desire to feel wanted, he knows the feeling of being wanted too well. Henry wants to see him take action for once, see him desire something. 

Bunny took his hands out of his pockets and pressed them together, "'s been awhile since we played poker hasn't it?" Henry hadn't expected to chuckle, but he did. It was the fact that everything Bunny did still somehow managed to surprise him.

"I bet I could kick your ass Winter."

"Oh please, you've never won a game against me."

"I've been brushing up on my poker skills, I'm sure this time's the charm."

"Is it?" Bunny never took his eyes off of Henry, "Yes, it is." Henry just shrugged, which was of course not an accurate display of his true emotions, and led Bunny into the bedroom where he kept his playing cards. Henry dealt, as he always did, and they didn't bet anything because Henry had nothing to bet but money, and Bunny didn't have money. 

"You're cheating."

"No I'm not," Henry didn't even glance up from his cards to reply.

"Yes you are, you've memorized these."

"How could I have done that."

"You put some sort of marker on 'em."

"I really have no idea what you're talking about Bun," and he really didn't, but he was used to Bunny conjuring things up for his own benefit. Henry had won the last two games, and he was in the midst of winning this one.

Bunny squinted at him,"All in". Henry raised an eyebrow, "You sure about that?"

"Fuck you, of course I'm sure," Henry laughed and so did Bunny, which was a common thing for them. When Henry laughed Bunny would too, like some sort of deranged parrot.

"Ok."

"Ok."

They put their cards down and of course, Henry had the upper hand again, just by one card as it happened.

Bunny groaned in a playful manner, "You're cheating."

"I am not."

"Why do you keep beating me then."

Henry shrugged, "Because I'm just better than you." 

He hadn't meant anything by that at the moment, not really, but it watered something awful inside him. 

Bunny was lying on his side on the carpeted floor, looking at him with this kind of listless look. Henry just continued to look down at him, because he was so very tired of being the instigator, the savior, the caretaker. He thinks he's doing Bunny some good, boosting his confidence or something. Really, he's just prolonging a game that has no other end than a morbid one. Bunny surreptitiously inched his hand toward Henry's, which Henry thought was ridiculous. Henry found the idea of holding hands in and of itself something absurd, but the idea of holding Bunny's was somehow sickening. Instead, Henry pulled that hand away and rested it in Bunny's hair, he was grateful that Bunny's hand retracted as well. He'd forgotten how soft Bunny's hair was, while at the same time remembering the expensive shampoo he bought him. He smelled like mint, but intensified, like some sort of bleach-mint concoction, as if that'd bring out the fragrance more. Henry rubbed his thumb in circles on Bunny's temple for a long while, savoring the peace and silence Bunny so rarely gifted him with. Bunny, however, was an energetic, hyperactive little thing who couldn't appreciate peace or silence, one of the things Henry truly loathed about him - his susceptibility to boredom. Sitting up abruptly, Bunny leaned over the cards to kiss Henry, something he hadn't done in weeks. This always happens, the press of lips after weeks of no contact always had an electric quality. Henry thought he'd get sick of it, but he hadn't, not ever. So he kissed him again, and again and again, each time rougher and messier than the last. Bunny messily scrambled over the cards to sit in Henry's lap and Henry rested his hands on his hips when he had, as always, as always. Henry and Bunny had a very particular system - a fight, a period of no contact, the inevitable breakthrough, and then this. Henry knew this system well, the ins and outs and mechanics of it all, but he never found himself trying to break it. He wondered if he didn't care enough to or if it was just too entertaining. Nevertheless, as usual, he hoisted Bunny up by his hips, which always took Bunny by surprise considering his height and build, and laid him on his perfect, pristine bed with the white sheets always properly tucked into the corners. They shifted around to their previous position and would continue their chaste kisses, as usual, as always. 

The next morning, Bunny had still been in bed without his clothes on. Henry found this moment to be significant, and it was significant, but not so much as he thought it was, as he might have wanted it to be. As Bunny slept peacefully, eyelashes fluttering every so often, Henry would brush his hands over his chest, relishing in the smooth, uncovered skin he saw so little of. He would press his thumb into the little bruises by Bunny's neck that are bound to be covered by a turtleneck for the next few days. The bruises were strange, created by a gentle but firm breakage of blood vessels. That truly was Henry's temperament - gentle but firm. A quiet, but omniscient presence that haunted even as he lived and breathed. Henry ghosted his fingers over Bunny's jaw, registering the clenched muscles and the vague displacement of the temporomandibular joint. He'd never get it fixed,  _ It's just a pain I'm not dying _ ,  _ You complain about it all the time _ . He's gonna knock it right out of its socket one of these days, Henry swears. Bunny rustles, slowly blinking his eyes open.

"Hi," Henry offers awkwardly, he'd never stayed in bed this long.

To his immense surprise, Bunny smiled his tilted smile and said, "Hi yourself old man". He stretched as he sat up and grabbed his glasses from the bedside table, "Wanna go get breakfast?"

Bunny dressed as expected, a black turtleneck along with a brown coat to minimize any chance those marks would be seen. Henry, vaguely to piss Bunny off, wore a dress shirt that was strategically loose around the neck, so a bit of purple peeked out. If Bunny was irked, he hadn't mentioned it, which was somehow both relieving and annoying. At breakfast, Bunny kicked his legs up on the table, reading off the menu uselessly to Henry who had his own.

"Bunny you don't have to read everything aloud."

"I'm doing it for you, didn't think you could read without your glasses." What? Henry thought, he patted his pockets and his glasses were nowhere to be found, he'd forgotten them at his apartment. 

"... sometimes they actually get in the way."

"Is that right?" Bunny continues reading the items aloud, everything, even things neither of them would even think to order. He knows the game Bunny is playing at, and he's strangely amused.

"Aren't you hot in that clothing?" Henry asked, innocently pretending to look over his menu.

"No, it's actually a bit chilly today don't you think?"

"I don't actually," Henry put his arm up on the seat cushion, briefly showing off those marks. Bunny's eyes twitched and Henry smiled proudly.

"French toast sounds good," it just happened to be the most expensive thing on the menu. 

___

Henry had paid in entirety for their breakfast, even when Bunny made a point to order, in succession, a round of cocktails. Of course, the waitress found it terribly strange to order such things at 10 in the morning, and so did Henry, which he told Bunny as much.

"Oh come on, live a little," which was amusing, because Henry thought he was living quite well without day drinking. He knew Bunny was too, far too well. Henry grimaced when the check came, but Bunny just twirled his straw around in the glass cup, looking on innocently. Bunny had, hilariously, offered to pay half, but Henry was determined to win this imaginary game of don't let your irritation show, and Bunny knew as much. He hadn't even made a show to pull out his wallet, because nobody knows Henry's hubris like Bunny does. He wrote out the check for two hundred dollars ( _ two hundred dollars! _ ) and signed it, putting a bit too much pressure on the pen and ripping the page. Bunny laughed as he wrote out a new one.

Bunny had spent the rest of the day purposely trying to annoy Henry. There is a point where teasing becomes malicious, and he toes that line expertly. 

"Whew that girl is gorgeous ain't she?"

"She's pretty."

"Ah yeah you don't like girls," Henry almost laughed at that, God what a hypocrite. Bunny led Henry from store to store, kissing the cheeks of the women clerks as Henry paid in cash for his ridiculous items. Henry supposed he should have been getting tired of this game, but he hadn't seen Bunny in so long, not like this, which made him dangerously sentimental. Bunny must have walked out of each store with ten fucking bags, or at least that's the picture Henry conjures up. 

"Don't you ever get tired of spending my money?" He asked when they'd gotten back to his apartment.

"Do you ever get tired of spending it on me?" Henry was going to say yes, absolutely, but something told him that was a bit of a lie, so he said nothing. Bunny had been the one to lead Henry back to the bedroom after their day out, which he usually did when he was happy. Henry followed, like a child and the pied piper, and he wanted this song to get old. As soon as the door closed, Bunny kissed him with such force that their teeth knocked together and they both stopped to laugh at that. Their antics, when all was said and done, were amiable, homely, sweet. Henry dragged his arm slowly down Bunny's sleeve, although the shirt was his. He lifted it from the hem over his head and tossed it on the floor. Bunny did the same with Henry's shirt. The night before was repeated with a heady sort of happiness. They were both drunk on delusions, Bunny's being an overzealous manifestation of jealousy, and Henry's being that this would last.

To fuel Henry's delusion, the happiness lasted for an unnaturally long time. Henry, Bunny, Francis, Camilla, and Charles slowly formed a conglomerate of friends instead of two separate entities. Francis even invited all of them over to his country house (mansion, really) for a weekend soon after they first met.

"Maybe that Abernathy ain't so bad," Bunny declared as he sat on Henry's carpet under the blaring fan. Henry was packing for both him and Bunny, easier that way, more efficient, he'd told himself.

"You should be nicer to him then." He heard Bunny snicker.

"I'm delightful." Henry chuckled.

Once they arrived, Francis gave them a mini tour, also mentioning that they could take the boat out whenever they wanted. Bunny made a stupid little wolf whistle when he saw the house, which Henry cringed at. Francis told them they could choose whichever rooms they want, Camilla and Charles curiously choosing to share a room. Henry and Bunny chose rooms at opposite sides of the hall, not too close or too far apart. Of course, Bunny hadn't actually slept in his room at all that weekend. After everyone had gone to sleep, Bunny would tiptoe over to Henry's who would welcome him with open arms. Bunny didn't have to tiptoe, he very well could have yelled, "I'm going to fuck Henry Winter" at the top of his lungs and not one occupant of the house would look at him twice, but he did everytime. Henry knew it was more of a consolatory thing for himself, but decided to simply ignore it. Bunny was always much sweeter at night, he would lie next to Henry whispering only good, sweet things to him as they drifted off. The next morning, Bunny would still be there, sleeping peacefully.

That weekend Francis wanted to take everyone out on the boat, but Henry and Bunny made some bullshit excuse to stay at the house while the rest floated along the river for hours. It was clear what they were doing, but the rest thought if they wanted to be secretive it was best to respect that. Of course, until Francis made some snide remark at dinner.

"I'm just saying, it's annoying," he's referring to Bunny's habit of blasting music wherever he went.

"Fuck you Abernathy, it's music."

"It is loud," Henry replied.

Francis clicks his tongue, "If Henry thinks that's loud, especially for you Bun, you got a problem," Francis threw back his champagne glass without a second thought, but Henry had set down his fork and knife and Bunny glared at him with malice.

"Fuck did you say, Abernathy," Bunny asked with a vitriolic drip.

"Nothing," Francis announced with an impressive amount of monotony and stood to fill his glass again. The twins sat in uncanny silence, as was the rest of the dinner.

That night, Bunny was in Henry's room earlier than usual, screaming a great deal. Henry was trying to get him to quiet down, which of course made him even angrier. Bunny left that night, without Henry, packed his bags and was already gone to the Hampden dorms when Henry arrived home the next day.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is messy yes, I am very tired but wanted to write.


End file.
